Wraiths of the Past - Reissue
by PassiveBot
Summary: 70 years after the end of Brisingr, a new generation of Riders with a new protagonist who finds herself embroiled in a plot of treacherous stakes, orchestrated by a terror far old than the Dragons and much more powerful. A reissue of the original Wraiths of the Past in collaboration with the original author, Bol. Edited chapters 1 & 2 slightly, on temp. hiatus.
1. Wraiths of the Past

Hello, everybody! Here's Bol, the author of the original Wraiths of the Past. I'm sure some of you remember that story, it was an amazing thing, my very first story years ago and did get some recognition for having several thousand words per chapter, upwards of five thousand and up to ten thousand words for the first few chapters. It was a well-received story, but as I grow older I have less time than I did as compared to before, school and all, ugh, so I've partnered with the author PassiveBot to rerelease this story on his account, new and reimagined. Of course there were problems, we were midways of transferring half the chapters from the original story to his account when we realised our new vision to recreate this story in a new image at a higher standard of writing.

Now about this story, it is set 70 years after the end of Brisingr, Eragon has established a new order of Riders on an Island far North of Alagaësia. There will mainly be OCs, but many main characters, and several minor characters, will make reappearances from the books and play crucial roles in the plot.

Now, blah blah blah, legal stuff blah blah, and here's the reissue of Wraiths of the Past which PassiveBot and me, Bol, are beyond proud to present to you all, enjoy!

* * *

Frelsa stood on the ship with the other children, looking out over the edge of the boat, past the enchanted rigging and across miles of foam-riddled blue to a point so far away to be unreachable, where the clouds lingered and the birds spiralled. The Island.

Around her were no less than six children, all aged fifteen, some were tall, some were short, some were dressed in fine and royal tunics and dresses, others in simple colours. She looked down at her own clothes, a ragged brown coat that kept her warm from the sea squalls. Of those she stood with two were human, a boy with short, messy black hair and a Surdan girl with bronze skin and braided locks, two Dwarves, male and female, an Urgal and an Elf. The humans were obviously acquainted, the Surdan girl and the boy laughing as they spat over the edge of the boat, the Dwarves were mixing with the Urgal and the Elf, pale and sallow, sat alone against the rails, eyes scanning the horizon.

But what was strange was the looks they cast in her direction, they did not recognise her and watched her warily, especially the Elf boy. When she _did_ catch his eyes they were filled with suspicion and apprehension. She did not understand.

A sea breeze found its way under the slanted sails of the Elf vessel, tousling Frelsa's hair and threatening to spirit her precious old cloak away. She wrapped her arms tightly across her chest, squinting as the wind stung her eyes.

The human boy leant dangerously far over the edge, laughing and pointing at the speck of land in the distance. "Look! There it is!"

The Dwarves and the Urgal rushed over to see, ogling at the approaching black mark on the horizon. Frelsa did not feel like watching, strangely, and instead crossed the deck to take a seat on the opposite rails, clutching the nearby rigging for support. She sat away from the Elf boy, he frightened her.  
But evidently she did not frighten him as much. He watched her carefully, and soon she grew irked at his stare on her neck and snapped, "If you'd like to stare much longer, then I'd like to start charging you."

The boy's eyes softened and the furrows disappeared. He cocked his head, and the cryptic words flowed from his tongue, "Wem ach ono koma frá?"

She didn't speak the Ancient Language but she seemed to understand the meaning somewhat anyways. It was less a question than an accusation, a brand, and it unsettled her. "Uh, I don't speak your Language. In Common maybe?"

The Elf boy repeated, his voice smooth and accented, "Where do you come from?"

Frelsa raised an eyebrow. What kind of question was that? "From the mainland, where do _you_ come from?"

"No, that is not my meaning." The Elf Boy gestured at the ship around them. "From _where_ did you come from? I did not see you before, or see you board the ship. Were you hiding?"

What? "I don't-"

She was interrupted by a sound that stopped her heart and stoppered her throat in instinctive fear, a visceral, feral roar that boomed out across the sea's rough canvas and echoing off the waves, so loud that it left her ears ringing long after. The sound was fierce, strong and in its rough contours it told of the powerful and regal being behind such a sound. And an instant later, she saw the beast who had issued it.

A shadow flashed across the deck, the children screamed, some for fear and some for joy, as the sails shook and the mast trembled with the might of the great thing's passing. Frelsa saw it, hovering several metres above the ship, a great Dragon, a brilliant shade of yellow the colour of the morning star, its scales flashing like a thousand crystals through which a thousand Suns shone. It was not golden but a lighter, fiercer and more beautiful shade of yellow. It bore a wingspan twice as wide as it was long, with each beat a powerful gust bellowed down at the ship that made Frelsa close her eyes and look away, her coat and her long hair whip. One of the dwarf children scrambled over a barrel and hid behind it and the human boy tripped in his haste to hide in a shadowy alcove, their eyes peeking furtively at the rising Dragon above.

She risked a look and saw the Dragon rise a bit more, before tucking its wings in and falling like a stone, the wind screaming a high pitched shriek of horror as the Dragon dived towards the Elfish boat. She yelped in fear and ran for cover, tripping over a length of rope that stretched from the rigging, scurrying under the flight of stairs that led up to the wheel.

The boat rocked greatly to one side, the water lapping the hull and the wood groaned in protest as the great yellow Dragon undoubtedly alighted on the ship's bow. Frelsa peeked between the steps of the stairs and saw that there was a man on the Dragon's back, a bearded man with brown hair pulled back, eyes the wildest shade of brown that seemed almost gold. As he slid off his Dragon she saw that his tunic, though simple brown, was embroided in royal patterns at the edges and there was an ornate silver pin at his shoulder, at his side, swinging from a belt was a straight sword in a dull yellow-bronze scabbard.

He stepped off his saddle and landed on the ship with a movement that seemed to send more tremors through the wood, the man, the Rider, looked around at the children, frightened and excited. His fierce visage broke with a smile and he laughed a hearty, infectious laugh that sounded as loud as his Dragon's roar.

Silesh, the elf captain of the ship, called from the wheel, "Hail, Cibran! Looks like the Riders will have their hands full this year. Most I've brought from the mainland since the first years."

"Hah!" Cibran let loose another laugh. He set his hands on the wooden rails, looking over the children that lay scattered on the deck. "Well then? Come on, Riders! Front and Centre, boys and girls, let's have a look at you!"

Frelsa decided that she liked this man, he was wild and his good mood was infectious. She scurried over to join the other children as they hurried to gather in the centre of the deck. She stood next to the Urgal and the Surdan girl and she could feel herself quivering under Cibran's gaze, up close his golden eyes seemed to pierce her own as he looked over the children.

The Rider gave a whistle and shouted, "Seven children, eh? Horis has outdone himself, give him my regards when you return to the mainland."

Silesh smiled, "I believe the Sun has addled you, there's only six."

The other children immediately glanced at Frelsa and began to shy away. She looked around at them, confused, _what was going on?_

Suddenly she felt something else, like a huge presence bearing down on her as _something_ found her in her own mind, the presence was powerful, encompassing, slow and deliberate as it enveloped her mind and bore down upon it.

She was aware of eyes on her, this stare debilitating in its power. Slowly, reluctantly, she looked up to the sound of creaking wood as Cibran's Dragon leant over the edge of the railing above to look at her and she quailed under his eyes, the colour of liquid sunlight that seemed to burn from within. He did not move his jaws but she heard his voice, like the smoothest wine, booming from everywhere in her mind.

 _This one._

The words were like cracks of thunder from a far away storm, distant but betraying a power that was deadly all the same. And then just as suddenly as it had appeared to her, the presence withdrew, leaving a strange empty void where there never was anything. Two words, that was all he said, but still she felt her knees go weak as she crumpled to the deck, shaking and shivering. Cibran seemed to have heard the words as well for he fell silent and the smile began to leave his bearded face. The Rider frowned, he looked down at the girl curled up like a babe on the deck in fear, then at Silesh the captain. "Hasten to Nyr."

"This… stowaway! Outrageous! My deepest apologies, Shur'tugal, I'll have her returned to the mainland once I've ferried the children, my deepest apologies!"

"No," Cibran replied simply, the smile barely a ghost that hung on his features as he began to mount his Dragon again. "Bring her to Nyr." He glanced down at Frelsa and the girl stiffened up on the floor again as she felt another presence, and Cibran's voice sounded in her crown, _Child, when you reach the Island, ask for Cibran and Reckor. Do not tell the others, do not unsettle them._

She looked up between the folds of her arms and coat and saw him take a final look at her with those molten gold eyes, before his Dragon took flight with twin wingbeats that rocked the ship that it threatened to capsize.

* * *

The other children regarded her with suspicion, except for a few. The human boy, the lively one, sat down next to her, curious about her. The Dragon had looked upon her specially, as if marking her, and while they did not know about what Cibran had told her she was still different in their eyes.

And so the boy sat down next to her after she had recovered from the harrowing ordeal of letting the Dragon into her mind, the boy, wearing a red tunic that seemed a size too large, had messy brown hair and a sly smile that accompanied quick blue eyes. He offered a hand, "Hey there, you can call me Shepherd."

That must be an alibi, or a false name to sound mysterious and cool. But still she took the hand, giving a small smile. "Hello, my name is Frelsa."

She looked behind Shepherd and saw the Surdan girl, she noticed had gold braided into her hair. "Your friend?"

"She's alright," Shepherd smiled, leaning against the rails. "Says you're bad luck, but I think you could guess that by how she's looking at us right now."

The girl glared pointedly at Shepherd, jerking her head as if asking him to come over from Frelsa. He smiled and turned to the despondent girl, "So… what was that business with Reckor?"

"Reckor?"

"The Dragon," he explained. "You know, scales, teeth, wings, ring a bell?"

"Oh." Cibran _had_ instructed her to ask for him and Reckor. "Nothing, he just… looked at me."

Shepherd was unconvinced, giving a knowing look. "Uh-huh, I see. I guess that business don't have nothing to do with you just appearing on the deck?"

 _No, no, no_. "That's wrong!" she snapped defensively. She had just about had enough of these accusations and pointed glances. "I didn't 'appear', I was always on this boat, I got on with the rest of you."

"Well, I don't remember getting on with you," Shepherd replied. He gave a wry smile, "And I'm sure I'd remember a face like that."

Frelsa didn't flinch, she gave him an unamused look, and he raised up his palms in a peaceful gesture, "Ok, ok, no flirting, got it."

She sighed and looked over the deck at the Island, growing larger and larger with each wave they crested with a dull rise and a soft crash back into the foam. At this distance the features of the Island could be made out, the most defining feature the mountain that rose from the West side of the Island, which is to say the left side for they came from the South of the Island, the East side of the mountain rising gradually and gently with the West side had a sudden drop off of thousands of metres to the coast. The summit of the mountain was swathed in white and clouds gravitated towards it in a huge canopy of magnolia.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Shepherd breathed in awe, following her gaze. "Think about it, a few hours from now, we could be Riders! With Dragons of our own, I want mine to be blood red and fearsome."

Frelsa smirked, "I'll be happy with just getting past the Rider part." With how things were going, she was getting worried. Would she have gone all the way to the Island for nothing?

A hushed sound from behind, she looked back and saw the Dwarves and the Urgal arguing, gesturing at her and saying something to each other. Soon enough, the Urgal turned his back on them, stalking over to them.

The young Urgal was a good head taller than either Frelsa or Shepherd, he did not have horns yet but he was clothed in rough fur and was still plently intimidating enough. Frelsa noticed Shepherd stiffening up slightly besides her. The Urgal knelt down and growled in a deep, rough voice, "Good morning, humans. The short ones there were debating with me on what you were." He gestured at Frelsa. "A stowaway, or Thlerunn."

"Excuse me?" she asked at the last title. "The-le-what?"

"Thlerunn, you know, hm," the Urgal pondered for a while. "Spectre, wraith, ghost?"

A ghost? "Well you can tell your short friends that I am _not_ a ghost."

This was seriously beginning to unsettle her more than tick her off, this talk of her being a stowaway. The Urgal shrugged, "That is what I told them, but Dwarves are stubborn, it is in their nature."

Shepherd obviously didn't like Urgals. He held his chin up proudly, smirking, "You speak good Common, for an Urgal."

The Urgal didn't take this insult as such, instead nodding and smiling, "And I'm sure you speak perfect Urgralgra, human."

Frelsa gave a small chuckle as Shepherd's mouth hung askew, looking for a counter to the retort he wasn't expecting. She asked, "What's your name?"

The Urgal held his head high, puffing out his chest. "Drukjl, son of Duguruk the Horn, grandson of Thunn the Bold."

Drukjl said those names proudly so she guessed they must be great Urgals. He seemed quite cultured and well mannered, despite his appearance being as it was. He sat kneeling, ignoring the stares Shepherd gave him, asking, "So? What is your story?"

"I… I don't have a story, I boarded this ship two weeks ago, I've been on it with the rest of you and suddenly today you all start acting strangely, saying I appeared out of nowhere."

The Urgal gave a contemplating stare into the distance, remarking, "Strange, but then, dealings with Riders are always so." He looked towards the Island that was, by now, close enough to see the buildings. Drukjl stood and gave a short nod to her, "Hopefully this time tomorrow we meet again as such, as Riders."

As he walked away to rejoin his two Dwarven companions, she decided that she also liked him, he was much different than what she though an Urgal would be. Shepherd watched the Urgal walk over to the rails to watch the incoming Island, shuddering. "Unnatural, that's what it is, letting Urgals ride Dragons, that's what my father always said."

 _Well maybe your father's wrong_ , she thought secretly, not that she harboured any ill will towards Shepherd. He stood, offering her his hand. "But he's got something right, I hope you become a Rider too, despite you know, just popping up and all."

Frelsa hesitated, unsure with all that had happened just in the past hour, she had a nagging suspicion that maybe they were right, what if she wasn't chosen to be a Rider? What if she came here for nothing?

But she took the hand anyway, letting Shepherd pull her upright, she said, "Here's hoping."

* * *

Frelsa got up and followed Shepherd to the side of the deck where all the children gathered to look. There came a sound across the sea, the sound of cheering and clapping that grew louder and louder as the ship rose and fell on the waves. She saw, on the green of the Island and in the shadow of the mountain were cities, rising towers of stone and huge villas, large enough that Dragons might fly within them, between the buildings grew giant trees that rose ever taller than the buildings, their canopies hundreds of metres in the air. To the East, away from the mountain's summit, was a wide field that stretched up all the way from the beach shore to the mountain's wide base that stretched almost the whole length of the island, ringed on one side by the city and on the other by a great forest of huge trees that continued all the way to the Eastern shore and curved around the Island to the other side across the crest of the mountain's base.

Her breath halted in her chest as she saw the first Dragon, a huge orange gem that roared as it flew overhead, then the second, a red one, then a third, a sky-blue one that flew overhead. Each one echoed a roar, each roar a different exclamation of joy at the arrival of new Riders. Soon more Dragons, Rider and no, flew in and the light was blotted out by a cacophonous chorus of Dragons in all the colours she could imagine, the light refracting off their scales in a thousand different ways.

She looked down to the Island and saw the docks there, made by Elves no doubt by the tall sloping roofs and green ivory that glinted in the sunlight used to construct it. A dozen or more ships were docked there, and as Silesh manoeuvred the boat into the docks she saw so many people there, waiting for them, some of them Riders with Dragons at their sides, Humans, Elves, Urgals, Dwarves. There had to be fifty at least. New Riders were evidently a celebrated part of life here.

The faces lined the piers, beautiful, perfect faces touched by magic, smiling, cheering, craning their necks hopefully to get a glimpse of the new Riders. Frelsa noticed most of them here seemed younger than she expected, few of the Riders looked older than forty. The children on board the ship leant over the sides of the deck, waving to those that were mere feet away, reaching out and their fingers connecting with them. One of the Dwarf children reached out, hand brushing the outstretched snout of a small blue Dragon, the Dragon cocking its head back and letting loose a roar of joy.

Shepherd, standing next to Frelsa, laughed at her reluctance. "Come on! Enjoy the fame a bit!"

"I'm not sure I should-"

"Here, like this."

He wrapped his hand around her wrist, bringing her arm up. "Now smile and wave, girl."

 _Smile and wave._ Frelsa took a deep breath, when Shepherd's hand left her wrist her arm was still outstretched. _Well, if I don't get to be a Rider, might as well enjoy it here for a while._

A smile furtively crept onto her features, and soon she was grinning well and truly, waving at those on the piers who shouted exclamations of 'Welcome!' or 'Rider!'. New Riders must really be a big thing here.

She glimpsed someone in the crowd, an Elf man, without a Dragon, garbed in a tunic like a coat of leaves, long black hair tied back in a high ponytail. He stood apart from the rest, though enveloped in the embrace of his neighbours. When he looked at them, Frelsa found that his eyes gravitated to hers and hers to his, captivated by the mournful light that hung about him like a fog. The Elf reached out to the boat, to her, in his hand a single flower, a lily flower, the petals white as snow but fading to a red like blood near the edges. The others on the boat, leaning over the side to bask in the adulation, did not take the flower or pay it any mind, but the Elf was undeterred, looking at Frelsa as if offering it to her. So she reached forward and though the space between them, the water between the pier, seemed much too far to bridge, her hand found the white and red lily all the same, clutching it close to her chest as the Elf continued to watch her even as the boat passed him, watching until the crowd enveloped him again.

A shiver passed up her spine as she glanced down at the lily, she quickly tucked it into her belt. _What a strange Elf, but I guess strangeness is their nature._

Soon the boat stopped, the enchanted rigging of the boat coming to life and throwing ropes around anchors on the pier, a gangplank sliding up and with a dull thud, rose and fell to connect the children on the boat to the Island.

Frelsa watched the others rush, jostling to be the first to step onto the docks, to leave their past behind. _Well, I guess this is it._

She was at the back of the line as they walked down the gangplank, listening to the song of roars that made her ears throb and the laughter and cheers. She glanced off to the side, down the pier, down the line of faces that looked back, past the ship and off to sea to the South. She didn't know why but she felt a strange feeling of… loss? Just nostalgia at leaving the mainland, only good things awaited her here.

A young Rider, a Dwarf boy that couldn't have been a year older than her, bowed to the new arrivals, gesturing down the crowded pier towards the city. He beamed, "Welcome, to Doru Araeba Nyr!"

* * *

Well, that was chapter 1 of Wraiths of the Past, Reissued! I have to say, it's a monumental task retaking an old story of mine I wrote when I was so young. I hope you enjoyed it and please leave a review on what you thought, you can privately message PassiveBot with any questions you have for the two of us and here's to a long future with the Wraiths of the Past!


	2. Elda

Here's Chapter 2, I had a great time writing this one with Bol, reimagining her imagining of the new Doru Araeba. To all our returning readers from the original story, welcome and hope you like the changes! Not to bore you guys, so here's the chapter.

* * *

To be honest, this crowd frightened Frelsa, the looming faces and smiles that surrounded her on all sides, questions that blended together into a mix of indecipherable voices. And there was this ever present background noise that she couldn't place but could hear in her inner mind, like all around her a thousand conversations being held and she couldn't help but eavesdrop upon them all, glimpsing words and snatches of sentances, _love, young, seven, skinny, Dwarf,_ and such, unrelated words that assailed her. She tried to ignore it, looking up around the faces and Dragons, reaching forward and latching her hand onto Shepherd's shoulder. She whispered, "Could I stick close to you? I feel like I'll get lost in this place."

He smirked, making an exaggerated gesture for her to come forward. "Anything for a cute little lady."

"Oh shut it."

The City, Nyr Doru Araeba, was larger than life in all aspects of the phrase. Here a one story building had a roof that rose ten metres into the air, the door wide enough for a grown Dragon to enter, the large buildings were titanic in comparison, towers and turrets that rose hundreds of feet above, grand shapes of white gilded in a different colour, the very stones themselves inland with gems. Even from within the Docks Frelsa could see the buildings rising, each one like its own mountain, greater than the tallest Dragon she could see.

But it was not until they stepped out onto the streets itself that Frelsa truly felt awe at the city. As the crowd parted the light seemed to pour in towards them, she raised an arm to shield her eyes at the bright sunlight, and when she lowered it her jaw followed suit.

The main street they looked down right now was wide enough that a warship could comfortably sail down its length, or large enough for three large Dragons to walk side by side. Between and under the shadows of gigantic structures and tall twisting trees walked Dragons, of every colour and size imaginable, from the size of goats and ponies to a few the size of cabins that shook the stones with their passing. The main road went on with dozens of alleys at its sides as far as she could see. The huge, magical creatures seemed as common as cats here, and they behaved as if this were normal, the different races walked intermingled with the Dragons, completely at ease. She saw Riders upon their Dragons fly up from the street and alight in the windows of towers and buildings, slinking inside, along the harbour walked an Urgal girl, the first she'd ever seen, at her side was a small blue Dragon that yipped as it chased seagulls, on the other side of the harbour a Dwarf stood on the edge, looking at the new arrivals, before his Dragon nudged him into the water.

The others were caught in various states of amazement and shock, even the Elf boy's eyebrows cocked up as his eyes bared wide, Drukjl, the Urgal, muttered something in his language. Frelsa glanced at Shepherd next to her, breathing, "Wow. This place, it's…"

"Amazing," he whispered breathlessly.

 _Yeah..._

A smartly dressed Elf waited at the entrance to the Docks, not a Rider it seemed by the lack of a Dragon at his side. He gave a low sweeping bow, twisting his hand over his chest. "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Shur'tugalar. Welcome to Doru Araeba Nyr, please, if you would follow me I will bring you to the Wide Tower, to be acquainted with your new home."

Frelsa timidly advanced as her fellows turned to each other, muttering in anticipation, smiling with excitement. She whispered to the emissary, "Excuse me uh, sir."

The Elf smiled politely, "Shur'tugal need not call me sir, I am you humble servant."

"Oh, okay, uh, I was told to ask for Cibran and Reckor when I arrived."

Quite suddenly the polite features melted into nonchalance. The Elf looked her up and down, remarking, "Yes, he told me about you, the Seventh Child. Solus'sverd and Istalrilr, they await you." He paused for a moment, brow furrowing as if in deep thought. "They will come for you very soon."

Now to be honest, she had no idea who the Elf had said who would come for her, and she could only assume those two Elvish titles she would not even try to pronounce referred to Cibran and his yellow-gold Dragon, Reckor. He turned to the others, smiling politely again. "Shur'tugalar, please follow me and do not stray. Seventh Child, you will wait here."

 _Seventh Child_. Frelsa didn't know why but this term, obviously meant as degrading, didn't hardly affect her as much as she'd think. It was mysterious, she liked it.

She sidled up to a chain rail on the harbour's edge. Most of the other children cast her wary looks as they walked past, Drukjl asked, "Is something the matter, human?"

"Don't worry about me, just go follow the group." No use burdening them with her problems.

Shepherd cocked an eyebrow, but didn't ask questions, following with the rest of the group and talking animatedly to the Surdan Girl who cast her suspicious looks. She glanced back pointedly, and sat down to wait for the Rider Cibran, watching her compatriots leave.

* * *

A Dragon's roar startled her, nearly making her fall off her perch on the chain rails on the edge of the harbour. She looked up but didn't see that giant yellow beast. She felt very awkward at the moment, a waifish figure in a ragged old coat surrounded by so many resplendent Dragons and finely clothed Riders that barely glanced at her as they walked past. Most of the crowd that had lined the docks to watch the ship were pouring out of the harbour, some of them remembered her and gave her kind looks, shared words of encouragement that soon grew so numerous she couldn't help but filter them all out. She did not see the strange Elf who had given her the white and red lily, which was now tucked at her waist in her belt.

 _Dragons here seem to be a part of life_ , she mused, watching two Dragons swoop and dive at each other far above, the shadows of Riders on their back. Each Dragon must have been the size of a carriage yet no one paid it much mind, except for a group of Riders who sat on a rooftop who seemed to be betting on the tussle. On the ground she watched a purple Dragon that couldn't have been larger than a large dog giving a thrilling whine of joy as it ran through the crowd that left the docks and diffused out onto the streets, dodging between the legs of larger Dragons and making Riders yelp, all the while a young human man who must have been the small Dragon's rider chased after.

A wind blew through the city, on its arms she tasted the salt sea as it cast up her hair around her face. She tucked her coat closer for warmth, shivering not for the cold. _I hope I don't go back, this place… I want to be here._

Soon enough there was a booming sound of wings, closer than before, and she looked up to see what seemed for all the world like the Sun had stepped down from its roost, a yellow Dragon as large as a house whose scales gleamed uncommonly bright, even though she saw nothing but his dark underside as he descended to the street, each beat threatening to blow her into the sea.

On the ground the crowd cleared respectfully, as if sensing immediately who it was, and Frelsa recognised the Rider as Cibran as he stepped off the saddle, sword bouncing on his thigh as he slid down Reckor's side. The Riders that passed him immediately bowed and said greetings like the Elf emissary had said just now, to which he nodded in response. His golden eyes found Frelsa's immediately and he motioned to her, _Come._

She got up off the rails and kept her head down from the intrigued eyes as she ran to him. He was intimidating, but not because he meant to be, tall and well built. Up close his gaze was kinder and softer than it seemed far away, his beard well-groomed and short, framing a grin of white teeth, and his long brown hair pulled back into a knot. He was very handsome in the way he smiled, and he did that very often. Reckor watched her as she came near, now _he_ was frightening, must be fifty feet long at least, when he happened to show his teeth she saw that his longest fangs were the length of her forearm.

Cibran smiled, bowing, "I don't believe I have formally introduced myself. I am Cibran, this big fool here…"

He slapped his Dragon's side, to which he received a puff of smoke in the face. The Dragon tipped its head towards her, _I am Reckor Istalrilr, the Fiery One._ She could understand where he got that title. _And who might you be, child?_

"F-Frelsa... sir."

"Hah! Don't make Reckor feel old, no need for sir. You seem like a nice girl, Frelsa," Cibran's eyes searched her and she found herself quivering as he pried apart her secrets with just his gaze alone. "I hope you are nothing but a victim of strange circumstances, for your sake. Have you, perchance, ever ridden Dragonback?"

She gulped, looking at Reckor as he seemed to find amusement in her terror. She wasn't even sure she could reach his saddle, the foothold was a head above her. "I-I can't say I've ever flown anything."

"Oh I don't mean flying," Cibran laughed. "I would not take the honour of your first flight away from your Dragon. I merely meant riding Reckor."

The girl couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, she didn't think she could handle flying. "That's great…"

Cibran laughed again, making her smile with his mirth. He already stood at his Dragon's side, and in a fluid motion, one hand on a strap and the other on the saddle, pulled himself up onto the saddle as if mounting a horse, if that horse was twice as tall as the largest charger and made of scales and teeth.

He looked down at her, smiling, motioning for her to get mount the Dragon as well. "Go on then. Don't worry, he doesn't bite."

The Dragon gave a little growl, _Only when I'm hungry._

He can't be serious. Frelsa didn't know what to do at first, but with a glance of assurance, timidly approached the Dragon, watching its side and chest stretch and sink with each breath, glowing as if with a heat from within. She glanced up at Cibran again as if for confirmation that he actually wanted her to climb onto the back of this fifty foot long fire breathing creature that seemed to find pleasure in the fear he invoked. She took a deep breath and advanced.

At first she didn't know how she'd actually get up onto Reckor's back, then he bent his forelegs and his voice, smooth and deep, sounded, _Use my leg as a foothold._

When she laid her palms on the scales she started, they were rough and hard and warm, she had expected it to be smooth like metal. Her hands on his leg, she pushed herself up, scrabbling for purchase on the scales. She felt herself sliding down, her fingers rubbing painfully against the ridged scales, before Cibran's hand grabbed her's, gently pulling her up onto the saddle. He nodded, "Good effort for a first try."

She smiled back, "Thanks."

He laid one hand on the ivory spike in front of the saddle and with the other he patted Reckor's side. "Come on, let's go find my Ebrithil."

* * *

Riding Reckor was how she imagined riding a giant stallion would be like, albeit much more scaly and that threatened to blind you if you looked too hard at it. He walked down the street, swaying serenely from side to side as he took long steps, making Frelsa tip from left to right with each huge step.

Frelsa noticed how the other Dragons, with Riders and without, tucked their wings in and lowered their heads, the larger ones regarding Reckor regally, and Riders they passed called out in greeting. Judging by all she had seen thus far and how much larger Reckor seemed to be than most Dragons, the largest she'd sighted so far, she guessed that her two chaperons must be more senior than the rest, though Cibran seemed quite young.

With each deep breath the Dragon she felt the ribs pressing against her legs and boots, the scales rough against her skin. She shifted on the saddle, trying to find a comfortable position, all the while aware of the eyes that glanced up at her, a ragged girl riding with Cibran on his Dragon. She tried to ignore them, already miffed as it was by the talk of her popping out of nowhere on the ship, looking around at the buildings and the city around them.

This wide boulevard leading from the Harbour seeming to be the main street to where all the other roads led to, and they passed many of such roads, dozens of wide alleys and branching paths, most of them large enough to fit a Dragon or two. Through them she glimpsed winding corridors of buildings and glimpses of other streets.

Cibran glanced back and saw her slackjawed look of appraisal as she looked down street after street, he explained, "The capital of the Island Ellesnëad: New Doru Araeba, a modest settlement, home to more than two hundred Riders and almost five hundred Dragons, bonded and wild."

 _Hah, 'modest.'_

"Where are the wild Dragons?" she asked. Most of the Dragons she'd seen had Riders with them.

"The Riders claim the South side of the Ellesnëad, everything North of the Mountain, the forest out there, belongs to the Wild Dragons."

There was a crash and she turned to see a Dragon burst out the door of a building, not even walking, the giant purple beast was flying, its wings outstretched yet the door was wide enough to allow it to easily fit through. "There are so many Dragons here… And the buildings, they're gigantic! I've never seen buildings this big…"

"Ah," Cibran nodded. "A necessity when half your population is huge and fat."

Reckor gave a growl, _Ignore this fool, just know these buildings are large to accommodate two-legs' enormous egos._

Frelsa noticed that here the races mingled without fear or reproach, especially surprising was the Urgals. They broke bread with Elves, drank with Dwarves and mingled with Humans, here there were no social boundaries or bad blood just for race.

Cibran gestured down the street. "Reckor walks the main boulevard, it curves through New Doru Araeba until it reaches the base of the Mountain. But today we go to find my master, last I heard he was in some library, I can only hope that he is there now."

"Who is your master?" she asked curiously. "Is he a great Rider?"

Another, by now, familiar sounding laugh. "A great Rider would be an understatement, he is the greatest to have ever lived, they sing songs about him on the mainland, kings and queens have named their firstborn after him and any man, woman or Dragon here would lay their life down for him in an instant would he command it."

His master sounded frightening.

* * *

A hand grazed the surface of a scroll that was yellowed and worn by years untold, glancing down names he'd read obsessively hundreds of times over. The paper sighed dryly as his finger traced down the many titles and deeds, the names his eyes had grown familiar to scanning over seeming to sound in the silence.

 _…Phillipe, Qwyn, Sílrith…_

A candle burnt in the corner of his vision at the edge of the table, by its light was illuminated rows upon rows of dusty bookshelves that rose dozens of metres to the ceiling lost in darkness above, in the wood's embrace scrolls and tomes and manuscripts beyond count and remembrance.

 _…Drunherd, Iundarel…_

As he mouthed the names, immediately came to his mind their great deeds, their great enemies slain, disasters averted, alliances forged by all these great leaders of his order. Finally he came to the end of the list at the very bottom of the long scroll of names. _Simal, Vrael, Eragon._

The finger paused at the last name, tapping it in his absent thought as his eyes glanced over to a tome at least a foot thick in pages he had left open at a page. The words on the scripts were printed so small that the largest elven symbol was scarcely the size of a grain of wheat yet each page was still very large. An entry from a hundred a nine years ago, the words whispered in the quiet _…slew the Lethrblaka, burnt its nest in the reaches of the Spine. Three eggs found destroyed, two missing. The other fiend disappeared with her spawn, but not before scoring a grievous blow to Vunumdim. I bid the other young Rider to return to Vroengard with his own Dragon. Vunumdin and I will hunt down the last beast when we have healed, no later than the morn._

Soon came the clack of boots against the stones of the library's floor, perhaps not an uncommon sound here as the Elfin scholars, who often took the journey to Ellesnëad to partake in the knowledge here, wandered the hallways in search of some forgotten tome, but no, these footsteps were heavy and belonged to one with a brave, sweeping stride. He felt a presence nearing down one of the many corridors of books, his student, Cibran, and a girl.

The hand that lay on the table moved slightly, the fingers curling just an inch, and the scroll furled itself up on command and the pages fluttered shut, the tome's dust-trailing cover shutting itself with an exhalation of silence.

* * *

"Address him as Elda at all times."

Frelsa looked at the walls of bookshelves on either side, each one rising seemingly infinitely, their shelves lined neatly with catalogued tomes and scrolls, some of them with gilded labels, others with naught but a few black runes to mark them, and a few that were plain and faceless. In this library the air was choked with dust and heavy around her, stale in taste as it lingered in her lungs and heavy in her throat.

She kept pace with Cibran as he swept down the corridors of the library, from the outside a great building of faded green and silver with crystal windows, but inside a claustrophobic affair. She doubted there was enough space for even the smallest Dragon here.

"Bow to him after I introduce you, do not speak unless spoken to and when you do, with respect and tact," he cautioned.

As they walked, she glanced to the side and saw strange shadows shuffling on the other side of the library, some of them humanoid in being, Riders and scholars no doubt, muffled by the dark, but soon saw something she couldn't place. She lingered to look and glimpsed on the other side of the bookshelf was a creature of shadow that was hard to tell from the background of grey.

The wraith seemed to have a dozen hands with which it held a dozen books and scrolls moving strangely slow and sluggishly as if underwater, a free limb unburdened by books softly brushing over the bookshelves and placing the books in its other clutches into select shelves. Quite suddenly the thing paused, stiffening up and turning slowly, eerily silent though she imagined a sound like a creaking door, to face her, and she saw two eyes of soft light as if they were naught but specks of dust that caught the light in a passing glance. Under its erudite gaze she felt the air grow very still and dry, she felt a tremor travel up her spine and a shiver run down her skin. She immediately looked away, hurrying to catch up with Cibran, glad for his presence.

While she was still rubbing her cold arms to calm her nerves from what she saw, her escort paused and she saw, at the end of the line of bookshelves, a light, a desk with a candle upon it where sat the small shadow of a faraway man with his back to them and scrolls and tomes before him. Her breath caught in her lungs, sensing with a strange seizing of her lungs that this must be him.

Cibran inhaled sharply, stopping, turning on his heels to face her. He swiftly put it, "Remember, respect, tact, if you must talk keep your meaning succinct, if not leave it to me, understood?"

"Yes uh, sir."

"And don't call him 'sir', Elda at all times."

"Yes, sir."

Her heart jumped up her throat as she saw the tomes and scrolls close, the master reclining in his seat, as if expecting them. Cibran smoothed back his maroon hair, straightening his beard, suddenly making her very self-conscious as she glanced down at her own ragged coat and long messy hair which she tried to comb with her fingers, but she did not get a chance to do anything more before he advanced.

Frelsa looked at the silhouette seated before them, Cibran's master cut an imposing figure though he sat in a chair, there was something in how relaxed he was, the quiet of his silent contemplation. She felt something else, a feeling like waves of warmth washing over her, as if magic itself surrounded the master like a cloak of fire, indeed the space around him seemed to be lit more from him than from the candle on his table, if that was possible.

Cibran glanced down at her, offering her a final smile. "Are you prepared?"

"I'm not sure, your master, he frightens me."

"Well you shouldn't be," he chuckled quietly, his fierce, golden brown eyes seeming to glow in the dark, his smile strangely captivating in its kindness. "I was scared of him as well, when I was young. But he is kind, far kinder than any man of his ilk I've ever known."

"Really?" She had to admit she didn't know many men who had sounded as intimidating as Cibran's master.

"Oh yes, at least the men I grew up knowing. Okay, take a deep breath..." She took a deep breath. "Remember, always address him as Elda."

She noticed suddenly, that was a title for teacher, she knew that much, but then she also needed a name to go with a title. "But wait, what's his name? What do I say before Elda?"

"Ah, I nearly forgot, his name's Eragon Elda will do."

* * *

Well, who didn't see that one coming? I hope you enjoyed this story, please leave a review on what you though of the chapter and see you on the next one, ciao!


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